The Middle
by Harriet Specter
Summary: 'He considers one of their many beginning to be the day she tells him he's her best friend. They're ten years old and it's not exactly a heartfelt admission of sincerity, but it's from the girl he likes, so naturally, it means the world. ' It's Kabby, it's more than 5K, what else do you need? Review, pleeease, bless your soul.


When you're living in the middle, you don't stop to think about the beginning, or the possibility of an end. It's like climbing a mountain: with each step you take, you get further away from where you started from, that much closer to your goal, but you're not there yet – so why turn around, just to take a look at what you've accomplished? It's a shame though, the view is to die for.

It's only after something ends, that you try to find some solace in remembering. That you try to pinpoint the exact moment that changed your life forever, and curse the one that ended it all. And maybe even yourself, for not knowing any better. For thinking you could have everything. For taking everything for granted. How foolish of you.

And yet, we make the same mistake, time and time again. It's the most twisted rule of human nature - we never learn. Marcus Kane knew this more than anyone, and he intended to be the exception.

beginning i,

He considers one of their many beginning to be the day she tells him he's her best friend. They're ten years old and it's not exactly a heartfelt admission of sincerity, but it's from the girl he likes, so naturally, it means the world.

They just had their first test in Earth Skills, she aced it, of course, and yet her face is lacking its usual glow, so he asks what the matter is. She sighs. "It's stupid." He gives her _the look_, she's not getting away that easily, they're supposed to tell each other everything. And they do, he realizes. They've known each other from an early age, the reluctant first acquaintance slowly but surely became their most reliable human contact with the outside world, a bond formed by shared experience and, dare he even think it, mutual respect. She was his family.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, but don't laugh!" She said, the corner of her mouth already twitching upwards. A look of feigned innocence mixed with mild curiosity was his only reply. "I just wish I could see one for real. Touch it. Smell the petals." He raised an eyebrow. "A rose, Marcus! Keep up, would you? I mean it's so frustrating - " she threw her hands up in the air, touching the bright red flower-shaped hairpin holding her unruly curls in the tight braid they were currently arranged in, at the back of her head "- even if I have the highest scores in class - which I do by the way, don't you ever forget that - know everything there is to know about the structure of every living organism, like the back of my hand, I will probably never see any of them, not in an Earth way, anyway!" He tried to hold back a smile at her obvious confidence in herself, as well as the dramatic flair of her outburst, and failed, understandably. She was so cute when she was outraged. But then she narrowed her eyes at him, and he was enjoying the situation no longer, as her anger had suddenly turned on him instead of just the world in general. "You promised not to laugh, Marcus! That's not fair." She huffed in indignation and turned away from him, mumbling to herself. "I can't believe this moron is my best friend.." He didn't hear the end of her sentence as she stalked off, sulking, but it didn't matter. He'd make it up to her. As soon as he wipes the goofy grin that is currently gracing his features off of him entirely, surely she wouldn't appreciate that. And yet, he just couldn't find it in himself to be sorry. Abby said he's her _best friend_.

end ii,

As he looks into her deep, brown eyes, holding him in place with the unmasked terror reflecting in them upon the fear of losing him for good, panic etched onto her face, clear as day, hiding nothing from him for once, he realizes that this could have been their new beginning. He didn't think there was any hope for them, he didn't dare, not after everything he's put her through, not after she had looked at him like he was a stranger. Like there wasn't a time when they meant the world to each other. Or at least she did, to him. She was his whole world. And if he wasn't a coward then maybe, just maybe, they could've had a chance. But he let her slip through his fingers and there was no one he could blame for that, but himself.

It occurs to him at the worst possible time that maybe this isn't the answer, maybe now is not the time to make up for all those years of indecision and idleness, and maybe he's just a stupid moron who always runs away from his problems – that's when he realizes that his conscience sounds an awful lot like Abby, and it's not helping. And it's definitely not helping _her_. And that's all it takes, he's back on track, because this is for her. He's missed so many opportunities, left so many things unsaid, but now he has a chance to finally do something for her. To make it up to her. All of it, any of it, _something._ So he'll be damned if he's not gonna do everything in his power to ensure that she gets down to Earth safely to see her daughter again. That's all that matters. And their people, he adds absent-mindedly, for good measure. He's doing this for the people too.

He looks at her then, really looks at her, letting her see that his decision is final. She blinks, once, twice, like she's seeing him for the first time and the whole thing is ridiculous really, he'd laugh if not for his impending doom. She continues to search his eyes frantically, looking very much like a woman who's lost something, and he wonders what she hopes to find in them, if she even knows herself. The tightening of his lips and the furrowing of his brow is all the answer she needs.

He savors the flicker of defiance in her eyes at his decision - how he had missed her fire – her hand on his thigh, unrelenting, unwilling to let him go until the very last moment. Until he decides he can't take it anymore. One more second of looking into those rich, brown eyes, and he would have given her the world – a luxury that, for not the first, but probably the last time in his life, he can't afford. He stands, and as her warm hand instantly wraps around his injured one - her last attempt at making him change his mind, or her final goodbye, he doesn't know – he wonders why he still bothers lying to himself. After all this time, she still means everything to him, nothing could ever change that. For a second he wonders if it's the end of the world, or just him.

beginning iii,

The world doesn't end of course, on the contrary, new life begins. With them, down on Earth, at last. He still doesn't quite believe it. Not all of them made it down here though, and that is a weight he carries around with himself everywhere he goes, but the fact that she's alive and well and so is he, somehow still manages to make him smile, in spite of everything.

He still doesn't sleep though. The ground is so unfamiliar to him, with its foreign noises and peculiar wildlife, there was no way he would ever fall asleep tonight, even if he didn't have all that guilt constantly plaguing his mind, every time he tried to close his eyes, but alas, he did. So he resigned to make himself useful once again, ignoring the noise at the back of his head, the one that sounds like her, telling him that he's gonna have to start taking care of himself sooner or later. He chooses later, and tells her to worry about herself instead.

Which, she obviously doesn't, because as he steps out of his tent, his eyes instantly fall on her form, sitting cross-legged in front of the last dying breaths of what used to be their first Earth-made campfire. He sighs, of course she couldn't sleep either, and unceremoniously drops down next to her, leaving just enough space between them to seem like a decent person who respects her personal space. She's having none of it though, as she snuggles closer to him without a word, still staring at the last flickers of the fire in front of them.

Marcus looks at her then, marveling at her beauty once again as the light catches on her face. Has it been only mere hours ago that they stood on the deck of the dropship, experiencing the unceasing wonder that is Earth for the very first time? With her by his side, as it should be. Or at least, he hopes to God it is.

She's still silent, content to just _be_, for the time being – but he knows exactly what, or rather who, is on her mind.

"We'll find her, Abby." His voice sounds so reassuring, and he wonders who is it exactly that he's trying to convince, her, or himself. After all, she's always been the hopeful one, against all odds, unrelenting, never giving up for even a second. That's who she is. He doesn't know why, but in that moment he takes it upon himself to remind her of that.

"You don't know that." Her voice is so devoid of feeling, it would scare him beyond belief if he didn't know any better. Although, it does break his heart that she still feels the need to hide away from him. Emotionally, at least.

"Clarke a fighter. As long as she's alive, she won't ever give up. I'm sure of that."

"You don't know my daughter, Marcus."

"Perhaps not – but I know her mother." He lets the statement hang between them for a moment, lingering in the space between their fingers, and for once, she doesn't protest, not even when he catches her shaking hand in his and laces their fingers together.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she needs this, just as much as he does, albeit for different reasons, but nevermind that now. All that matters is that she knows that she's not alone down here. For as long as he's alive, she's never alone. And he can be her strength, for as long as she needs him. After all, he would do anything for her.

end iv,

The day he introduces her to the restless, carefree, cheeky sunshine of a boy he considers his only family - besides his mother and her - is the beginning of everything to his two best friends. For him, it's only the beginning of the end.

The last few weeks have been hell, to be honest. They've done nothing but study non-stop for their upcoming final exams, and he is exhausted beyond belief. And it's all because of her. She's always been the most serious girl in class, and he admires her hard work and dedication, just like he admires most things about Abby Griffin. She'll make the most amazing doctor the Ark has ever seen, of that he has absolutely no doubt. She can do anything she sets her mind to, really. Which is why he's here right now, instead of his own bed, reading some hundred-year-old comic book that she would dismiss the next day with a wave of her hand, saying she doesn't have time for that kind of thing. Their friendship has definitely improved his grades, but not his sleeping patterns.

It's 2.08 AM and he's pretty sure that no one is supposed to be in the Ark library at this time of night, least of all without supervision, but he also couldn't care less. It's not like they're gonna light it on fire, or anything, although the thought _has_ crossed his mind, but he dismissed it immediately, knowing that punishment would surely follow. Not that he minded, but he would never cause any trouble for her, not if he could help it. He looked at Abby's sleeping form in the armchair next to him, curled up in what must have been the most uncomfortable position anyone has ever slept in, her head laying on a stack of books, a pencil still in her hand, and another one lost somewhere in her hair where she had stuck it earlier. He has a sudden urge to run his hands through that impossible hair, to tuck the stray strands behind her ears, so that he can take a better look at her face while she's sleeping. He lets out a sigh, heavy with the weight of a million unspoken admissions, and closes his eyes. This is not good. His eyes don't stay closed for too long, though. They are drawn to her face like magnets, with a force of a thousand electric fields, tethering him to this moment right here, when yet again he's just too damn shy to make a move.

Their senior prom is fast approaching and he's been working up the courage to ask her for way longer than he cares to admit. He's almost entirely sure that someone has already beat him to it though, and it wouldn't be the first time. She's not gonna wait around for him forever, especially not since he's given zero indication of his desire for her to do so. Pathetic.

He's about to look for a blanket that he can drape over her – nevermind that there are probably no blankets in a library, a place that people use for many things, but sleeping is not one of them, at least until now – when he hears the faint sound of an opening door in the other room. He recognizes the approaching silhouette of his friend, as soon as he's in his line of sight, and signals for him to be quiet, pointing at the girl sleeping peacefully against the sea of books. It's not an unwelcome sight, he just wishes that she took even half as much care of herself as she does every else around her.

Jake smiles at the image tenderly, before crossing the room in two long strides and with a practiced ease, lifting her up in his arms as if she didn't weigh more than a feather, and carries her to her room with Marcus following behind. Of course he would do that. Unlike him, Jake never had any qualms about personal boundaries - that's one of the many things he envies about his friend. After stepping out of Abby's room, Jake closes the door softly behind him, so as not to wake her and turns to his friend with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I'm going to ask her to the dance." He says carefully, searching his eyes, as if for permission. "Abby" He adds, redundantly. As if Marcus doesn't know. As if he didn't know this was coming. But he did, deep down he always knew it would be the two of them in the end. It's just a stupid dance for God's sake, and she hasn't even said yes, he scolds himself. But even then, he knows Abby's going to say yes. After all, he's never given her a reason not to.

"Couldn't have chosen better myself." He manages to say, settling for an answer that won't suffocate him with the weight of his lies.

beginning v,

It's been two weeks since he's gone away again on one of his so-called expeditions and left her on her own to lead Camp Jaha. _Again_. Just to 'get the lay of the land, you know' and 'cover more ground, because come on, Abby, even with you're a+ in Earth Skills, even you can't tell what lies beyond, say, those hills? What if there are more supplies? Guns? I know you say we don't need them anymore, but we can't bee too careful'.

Well, technically she's not alone, far from it actually, but it sure as hell feels like it sometimes. She's never realized how much she misses his quiet, but constant presence when he's not by her side. It's almost as if a part of her is missing, like he took it with him when he stepped out of their camp. More than two weeks ago. _The bastard_.

'It won't take long'. That's what he said. Moron. And 'I'll be back soon, don't worry, Abby.' Yeah, right. Son of a - ...! She should have known better than to let him out of her sigh ever again. She's barely had a few weeks of moderately restful sleep - that hasn't been plagued by nightmares, because of the suffocating uncertainty of whether he's alive, dead or worse – since he's been back, and now he's up and left her _again_. I swear to God Marcus Kane, if you don't return to me in one piece, I will go ahead and strangle you myself.

"Abby." Jackson's quiet voice called to her from the opening of the med tent, making her snap her head up with such a vigor that she was sure she'd almost just broken her neck from the sheer force of that movement alone. Damn, she was on edge. Jackson ran his eyes over her quickly – her knight in worn hospital scrubs - always on the lookout, assessing her mood, as if he could protect her from this, whatever _it_ was. And he almost looked sympathetic. Almost. Abby raised an eyebrow in question.

"Your co-chancellor is back." She didn't even register how she got from her sitting position at her desk to the middle of the camp, where a crowd was slowly gathering by now, greeting the prodigal son and his group of merry men no doubt, her body carrying her without her knowledge or consent, not a care in the world, her mind barely even registering Jackson's last words that sounded suspiciously like "He's fine" - let alone the fact that he called Marcus hers.

She was completely out of breath by the time she reached them, but she wasn't about to stop now, she tended to go all the way, and this was as good a time as any.

The crowd parted instantly, watching as if they were spectators to the greatest event in human history, holding their collective breath as the woman belonging to the flurry of brown hair barreled into the broad chest of the man whose strong arms reached out to catch her even before she arrived at her destination, quite literally throwing herself at him, arms around his neck, tangling mess of limbs, as the their lips met in a kiss so passionate, that even the most immodest members of the audience felt the sudden need to look away. The crowd dispersed quite willingly after that, leaving the two of them to their _business_, still in the dead center of the camp, making out like teenagers – except that the teenagers that did live on this camp never actively indulged in such an unabashed public display of affection before. Not that it mattered now anyway, the whole world could have been watching and it wouldn't have made any difference, really.

Finally, after what felt like forever, but couldn't have been more than a mere minute, going by their burning need for oxygen, their lips parted, neither of them moving an inch further than necessary. Marcus slowly lowered the shaking woman in his arms, inch by inch, so that her feet could touch the ground, neither of them bothering to care about their buckling knees or flushed cheeks, as they stood there staring in each other's eyes with wonder, smiles as big as their faces would allow. Foreheads still touching, standing so impossibly close that they were essentially breathing the same air, so heavily, as if they'd just ran a marathon. And in a sense they have been, all their lives, just waiting for the finish line. Time to stop running.

Marcus cleared his throat, in a futile attempt at solemnity.

"Hi." He grinned at her, happiness radiating off of him in abundant waves, the effect so strong she felt like she was looking into the sun. She had never in her life seen him so happy and it made her want to cry with relief as well as frustration and joy. If only she had known sooner.

"Hi." She replied, voice hoarse from the emotional turmoil as well as their recent activities. She felt overwhelmed, her heart hammering in her chest, afraid that her emotions would overrun at any minute now, burying her under a sea of her own tears, which is probably what she deserved. She felt a thousand things at once, and yet all she saw was him, filling her senses, grounding her when she needed it the most, like he's always done. She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, his soul, it felt like, and said "Don't ever leave me again."

end vi,

Most girls spend the better part of their childhood dreaming of the day they'll get married to the _One_. She never had such dreams, and she didn't plan it, but here she was. Barely twenty-three, fresh out of med school – one of her terms that Jake had agreed to willingly, knowing when to push his luck, and this was not one of those times – her whole life ahead of her. Only now it was their life. She closes her eyes for a second, thinking about her mother and how much she would have loved to be here today. She wishes so desperately that that were possible. Maybe if her mother was here, she wouldn't feel like something is missing. Or maybe not, there really is no way of knowing.

She lets out a frustrated sigh at her reflection in the mirror, her own eyes staring back at her helplessly. She's spent the last twenty minutes trying to put that damn veil into her hair in a way that is classy, but also secure, and wouldn't fall off at the first step out the door – which is exactly what happened, when she first tried to fit it onto her head.

She was _this_ close to throwing the whole thing out the window, along with the dress and everything else that this whole night entails that she didn't remember signing up for, when she heard a knock on the door.

"Enter at your own risk." She says darkly, half-hoping that her comment scares the unwanted visitor away. No such luck. He stands in the doorway, closing the door behind him, chuckling softly, as his eyes meet hers in the mirror.

"You're a mess."

Any other day and the boyish smile spreading across his features would melt away all her impending anger, but today, she is so not in the mood.

"No kidding. Not the picture-perfect bride you imagined, am I?" She snorts. "Little help here, Marcus?" She tosses the veil into his hands, as if it's burned her and sinks back into her chair, looking every bit the pouting five-year-old he is so fortunate to have met all those years ago.

And for his part, he's not had too much practice with fixing up the hair of grumpy brides at the very last minute before they have to walk down the aisle, but he did a fine job anyway, if the lack of grumbling and the watering of her eyes is any indication.

After she's been staring at herself in the mirror for what seems like forever - hand still lightly touching her hair where he had pinned it down, along with the veil, keeping it in place with the tiara his mother had secretly slipped into his hand, just moments before he stepped into Abby's dressing room – she finally turns around and blinks at him, her eyes swimming with all the emotions she won't let onto the surface, not just yet.

"Thank you." She says, simply because she doesn't know what else to say.

It's enough though, and he genuinely smiles at her, for the first time in months, she realizes with something akin to loss, but not quite – because even though he's here now, for the first time in her life she's not so sure about tomorrow. And she knows it's selfish, but she wants to keep him forever. Before she could even try to figure out a way to communicate that, or anything really, he's already standing in front of her, having crossed the room in two long strides, and he's leaning down to kiss her cheek, something he's never done before, but then his lips are gone, and he whispered what sounds like "Congratulations, Abby" in her ear, and now he's in the doorway again, looking back at her with an expression she'll never decipher, doesn't even know if she wants to.

"Even though it is technically _borrowed_, you don't have to give it back, in fact, please keep it. As a reminder." And he's talking about the tiara, she knows that, but what is he talking about?

"Of what?"

His smile falters for only a fraction of a second, and it pains her that he thought she wouldn't notice – almost as much as him trying to hide it from her in the first place.

"Your something old." He says, referring to himself, she realizes one moment too late, as she stares at the back of his head retreating from her dressing room – and her life.

middle vii,

Abby woke up - once again - in the middle of the night, to an empty bed. She wrinkled her nose at the cold, empty space around her, missing his presence next to her already – the pressing of his warm body against hers, as his enveloped her frame, keeping her warm with his incredible body heat even on the coldest of nights. It never ceased to amaze her how much warmth he had to offer her, literally and figuratively speaking. She furrowed her brow. This was not like him. He's taken to getting out of bed in the dead of night, leaving her alone in their tent, probably thinking that she has no idea. The big oaf.

At first she didn't mind, with everything that's been going on lately - the pressure of leadership and building a society from scratch can take its toll on a man - and Abby thought the least she could do was give Marcus some space if that was what he needed. But it's been the fifth night in a row that she found herself alone in the darkness, shivering from the cold, curled up on the middle of their shared cot, right above the place where his steady heartbeat had been, thumping underneath her body, in time with her own. It's not that she can't sleep without him by her side per se, it's just that she prefers it when he's with her. And this was getting ridiculous. He was definitely up to something and so naturally, she felt the growing need to investigate. Right now.

She draped one of Marcus' coats around her shuddering form before stepping out into the cold, starry night, determined to find the man who should've been in her bed instead of doing God knows what – well, she was about to find out.

As she walked along camp and out into the night, quickly running through all the potential places he could be in her mind, she finally settled on intuition rather than reason, and decided to let her legs take her to him. She trusted her gut, she always has, it rarely let her down. Well, maybe once or twice. But not this time.

The first thing she noticed was the faint glow of _something_ in the distance, she couldn't quite make it out what it was just yet, but she knew it was beautiful. She quickened her steps, taking longer strides in the direction where she knew he would be, waiting for her. Call that a gut feeling too. As she got closer and closer, her breath hitched and a lump formed in her throat. And then tears threatened to fall all of a sudden, out of nowhere, and she had to blink rapidly to keep them at bay, as she found the source of the twinkling lights that greeted her. Fireflies. Thousands of them. He was insane.

"Marcus.." Her voice was raspy, but loving all the same, demanding an explanation. He was sitting on the ground, looking intently at something she couldn't see, and motioned for her to come closer as he stood up and turned around to greet her with an unreadable expression on his face. She didn't understand what was going on, but as he took her hands and led her to the small patch of garden he'd been nurturing for months now, finally letting her see just what he's been up to, why he's been missing from her side - trying to keep it secret as best he could, even enlisting the help of her daughter and their friends, proof positive that he really would have done anything for her – that's when Abby gave up trying to hold back her tears. It was no use anyway. Not now.

His hand came up to cup her cheek tenderly, the other brushing away her tears, only they never stopped coming. He kissed her to swallow the sob threatening to break free.

A rose garden. That he'd built with his own two hands. For her. The very hands that are caressing her face right now, his touch feather light, and yet, somehow - to her it's everything.

"You remembered." A beat. He kisses her nose.

"There really isn't anything about you that's easy to forget."

She closes her eyes, and he can tell she's about to tell him why he shouldn't have done this, that it's all too much and she's perfectly content with everything they already have here – but also how much she secretly loves it. He loves her all the more for that, but he has something very important to say, so he silences her with a tender kiss. Her eyes are still closed when he breaks the kiss, and she looks like an angel.

"Sweetheart, look at me." He says and she has no choice but to comply, his voice is like honey and she honestly has no idea how she's still standing. It probably has something to do with the way he's holding her up, like she's the most precious thing in his life. She really has to stop crying every time he so much as looks at her, this is becoming a problem. But then he opens his mouth and she knows she's already lost the war, even before the first battle began.

"I know you say you don't need any grand gestures, and I'm usually not the man to do that anyway." Oh boy. "But please, Abby, believe me when I say you deserve all of this, and so much more. I've never cared much for romance, but you make me do things I've never thought myself possible to do. You make me my best self, and I never want to be anything less, ever again. Every day I get to be with you is the best day, and each day is better than the last" Oh great, he's been practicing this. Oh shit.

"Abby - " He gently raises her chin to be eye-level with her, then says slowly, steadily. "The truth is I don't have much to offer, and everything I do have, will ever have, is already yours."

Her heart is hammering in her chest, with the sound of a thousand bass drums – and she would be irritated at herself if she wasn't concentrating so hard on staying in this moment with him, not wanting to miss a beat, committing everything to memory, because this is not happening - and it's all she can do not to faint right there, even though she's never been that kind of girl, she's a grown woman for God's sake. She bites her lip so hard she thinks she'll bleed. _Christ_.

"Marcus…" A shiver ran through her, right down to her bones, one that she suspected had precious little to do with the chill in the air, and everything to do with the man currently occupying her every thought, a man she's been in love with for much longer than she cares to admit. A man who, she suspects, in some way or another has loved her his entire life. And finally, she gets to return the favor.

"Abby." He replies evenly, never breaking eye contact with her. "Be my wife."

"Yes."


End file.
